He Was A Brave Man
by Sylvie Orp
Summary: Veterans are meant to have the experience to help and look after the cadets


Cowley felt that it was as important for cadets to know how not to do things as it was for them to know the right way. With this adage in mind, Cowley teamed up two newbies with two founder members of the 'awkward squad' – Bodie and Doyle. Bodie was matched with an ex-copper from Tyneside, Wilson, who seemed to think that the CI5 thing was a lark and a joke. He had the ability to get further up Bodie's nose than Doyle had yet achieved. Doyle was teamed with a member of the secret services; so secret that he hadn't yet worked out where the man was from – Planet Arse perhaps? The man, Cuthbutson, was also a peer of the realm no less. However Doyle was getting rather fed up, even after only a week, of the man's "Yes sir, no sir, how high do you want me to leap today sir?" He had no initiative at all – or backbone. Come back Bodie, all is forgiven. If daily ops weren't enough, Cowley seemed to delight in turning the screws even tighter and sent Doyle off with Cuthbutson on a four day mission into Wales. On the way home they had to drop off at a couple of stately homes for Cuthbutson to say hello to his fellow drones. It would be so impolite to drive on by, he claimed. Doyle was ordered round the back to wait in the servants' quarters!

Due to various commitments, Bodie and Doyle hadn't seen each other for nearly a fortnight. They'd arranged to meet up the evening that Bodie received a call on the R/T as he was dropping Wilson off home.

"3.7 – there's been a shoot-out at Lyon's warehouse. Fatalities on both sides."

"Why are you telling me?" But Bodie already knew. There could be no other reason. He felt sick to his stomach and didn't want to know the answer.

There was a pause on the line as if the operator hoped that Bodie wouldn't have asked that question. "Queen Mary's. I'm sorry, Bodie," the operator said sincerely.

Bodie put the radio down slowly and, just as slowly, parked the car up alongside a 'no parking' sign and stared out of the window.

"Do you want me to drive?" whispered Wilson – being human for once.

Bodie seemed not to hear him. He sighed, then put the car in gear as a traffic warden headed their way. He couldn't remember the drive to the hospital and had completely forgotten Wilson. He walked in a daze to the Reception area. Cowley came out of the shadows. He told Wilson to stay in Reception and guided Bodie to a relatives' room and sat him down.

"Bodie, straight off, Doyle's all right. He has a graze to the head but there's no brain damage; no penetration. He'll be out of it for a while, but otherwise fine. He should be home in a few days. I'm afraid Cuthbutson didn't make it, though. I won't know what happened until Doyle wakes up."

Bodie continued to stare at him, trying to reassemble the facts.

"Thompson was ordered to tell you over the radio that both operatives were dead because we believe that our radio frequencies are being tuned into. We've technicians working on the problem, but until it's solved we assume that everything is being listened to. It's safer if they think Doyle is dead. I'll take you to him, then I need to talk to Wilson."

Bodie had again forgotten his temporary partner but his thoughts and emotions were jumping around all over the place. He followed his boss to a side ward. Except for the dressing on the side of his head, Doyle looked as though he were just taking a nap after a particularly hard day. They gazed at him for a while like indulgent parents.

"He's not expected to wake up until tomorrow but he'll be all right, laddie." Cowley laid a fatherly hand on his shoulder. Bodie felt surprisingly touched by the intimate gesture. He glanced at his boss then back to his partner.

"It came close, though, didn't it sir?"

"Och, it'll take more than that to get through that thick skull!"

Bodie chuckled. "Oh, certainly that. I'd like to stay with him for a while though."

"You can have a few days off Bodie, you've certainly earned it. And I am sorry for frightening you."

Bodie tried to be generous and shrug it off. It wasn't often he got apologies, particularly from the boss. Cowley slipped away and Bodie dragged a chair to the bedside. After a few moments Doyle opened his eyes.

"I thought he'd never go," he said hoarsely.

"How long have you been awake?!" Bodie spluttered.

Doyle smiled lazily. "Long enough."

"You're not meant to be awake until tomorrow."

"When have I followed orders – particularly medical ones?"

"True enough."

More seriously Doyle asked after Cuthbutson. Bodie broke the news to him. Doyle grasped the bed sheets, turned his head to the wall, and swore softly.

"I tried, Bodie," he whispered, more to himself than to his friend, still staring at the wall.

"At a wild guess, Ray, I'd say that you got hurt trying to save Cuthbutson. How am I doing so far?"

Doyle slowly turned his head back. He looked very troubled. "Bodie, I need your advice. I'm also gasping for a drink."

It wasn't often that Doyle asked directly for help. It usually took second guessing, or have to be dragged out of him. Bodie was of the same temperament.

"I'm here, and I'm listening," Bodie encouraged, feeling increasingly worried about what he was about to hear. He got up and went into the en suite bathroom to get a glass of water. He helped his friend into a near sitting position and waited while Doyle spilt half the water down his jacket and the other half down his throat. Hand/eye clearly weren't co-ordinated yet. He handed the glass back to Bodie with the silent request for another. Bodie obliged, wondering if his partner was deliberately stalling. He managed the second glass a little better. Bodie waited quietly while Doyle mentally assembled his facts. Bodie was still trying to come to terms with his emotions.

Doyle closed his eyes as though the simple act of drinking had exhausted him. Bodie was on the point of leaving after prising the glass from his friend's hand, when Doyle opened his eyes slowly and reported softly, "When we got to Lyon's factory, you know the derelict by the barges, we were ambushed. I think there were at least four of them. It was supposed to be a clear run. Why weren't we warned?" His eyes opened larger now and Bodie saw anger rising.

"Cowley thinks the radio's being listened into. You're meant to be dead by the way, for the benefit of the listeners."

"When do I rise from the dead?"

"Dunno. Forgot to ask."

Doyle wouldn't have been in a state to ask intelligent questions either if he'd been handed the news of Bodie's demise.

Doyle continued a little more calmly. "We ran right into them. Cuthbutson loosed off a couple of shots and of course I joined in. I started to move forward to get a better angle but noticed that Cuthbutson hadn't shifted from his starting position. I thought at first he'd been hit. I went back and asked if he was all right and he just nodded. I stayed with him and took another one out. Cuthbutson still wasn't doing anything. Then a sniper got under my radar. I hadn't seen him and suddenly there was shooting over to the left. I swung round and managed to get him. I don't know if he was killed, but it was a very close round. Cuthbutson was right behind me so I thought he may have got caught in the crossfire but when I looked back at him he had his hands over his ears, clutching his head, and crouched in the corner rocking. Shell shock, Bodie. That's what it was. You've probably seen it. I hadn't – up till then. But I'm sure that's what it was." He waited for Bodie to confirm it. He was getting very tired again and the painkillers were wearing off.

Bodie quickly ransacked his memory banks but couldn't actually come up with an instance of when he'd witnessed shell shock in the field. However, Doyle's description sounded about right. He nodded and his friend continued with the story. His voice was weakening.

"Then another shot came whistling close by. I couldn't see where that came from, but it was enough for Cuthbutson. He took off like a bat out of hell right into the gunmen. God knows where he thought he was going. I raced after him yelling at him to get down. Then I don't remember any more."

He looked expectantly at Bodie. His friend wasn't sure what he wanted of him. How Doyle had managed to get out of that alive he didn't know and went cold at the thought of his partner not only having to tackle those numbers on his own, but also having to deal with an hysteric at the same time. Bodie didn't want Doyle out of his sight again. He should have been there. He knew it wasn't right to be angry at the Cow for leaving Doyle alone – he couldn't have known that Cuthbutson would fall to pieces or there'd be a crowd laying in wait for them – but Bodie was angry nonetheless – both at the Cow and at Doyle.

"You bloody, bloody fool," he murmured, shaking his head sadly and trying to keep his fear and anger at bay.

Doyle didn't want medals, but he did want a bit of understanding and empathy from his military partner. "You'd have done the same," he hissed angrily. The effort caused a wave of pain and dizziness but he tried to fight it off. Then suddenly he closed his eyes and flopped back on the pillows. Bodie thought he'd fainted and was about to get up to press the alarm button when the door opened and Cowley stepped in.

"I've spoken to Wilson and broken the news to him. It's more than a pity as I was going to team them up when you two had finished with them at the end of the month. Has Doyle woken and said anything?"

"No, sir," lied Bodie who was getting anxious.

"Well, I don't think he'll be awake any time soon. He's looking rather fevered. Go home and get some rest, Bodie."

"Yes, sir, in a bit."

Again, the fatherly squeeze of the shoulder before Cowley left. Doyle waited for a few moments as the footsteps died away along the corridor before opening his eyes again.

"Nothing wrong with your hearing, Ray," Bodie commented dryly. "How did you know that was Cowley?"

"His limp. I can recognise you too."

"I don't walk funny."

Doyle raised a sceptical eyebrow but answered, "It's from the perfume one of your girlfriends gave you as a joke but you insist on wearing!"

Bodie rolled his jaw. "That's expensive aftershave – not that you'd know about such things."

Doyle smiled weakly. However, it seemed that he hadn't got round to his reason for asking for help. Bodie had hoped that he'd leave it till next day when he was feeling better.

"So what do I do, Bodie?" he asked more seriously.

"About what?"

"What I tell Cowley. Cuthbutson isn't here to defend himself. I don't want to tell Cowley that he lost it. It's bad enough to have to tell his parents and sister that he died on active service. How bad can it be to say that he got hit because he panicked?"

"You're a good liar Doyle and an expert in not answering awkward questions, but Cowley's even better. He'd know you were dissembling before you got to the end of the sentence. You said you wanted my advice. I'll give it to you." Bodie leaned forward to emphasise his point. He noticed that Doyle was struggling to keep awake and looked in pain. He'd have to make it quick. "I think you're doing Cowley a disservice." Doyle looked confused. Bodie would have to spell it out. "Tell Cowley everything, Ray. It's not up to you what to tell the home folks. It's up to him. He'll know what to say and what to miss out. Let him pick through the story and offer up what he thinks is best. It's part of his job. He won't let an operative die in battle with a stain against his name unless someone else died as a result of it."

Doyle was trying hard to keep awake and to take in Bodie's soldierly advice. Smearing Cuthbutson's name when he wasn't here to answer for himself still seemed like a betrayal. He'd have to mull it over, but at the moment his mind was full of cotton wool. Tomorrow; he'd speak to Cowley tomorrow. His eyes drooped. He heard Bodie quietly leaving before he drifted off. The medical staff were right in the end; he didn't wake till next day


End file.
